On the Front
by temporary relief
Summary: AU- 1863- A Union officer receives help from a Southern lady and reaps the reward.
1. Christmas on the Front

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY.**

**Notes: So I adore Mac/Jo… That wasn't a great sentence, but it's true. Anyway here is another somewhat Mac/Jo piece. This is AU so Mac is in the army. History facts: Hood was a real Confederate general. He led the Texans. Sherman was a real Union general who laid waste to the South in his March to the Sea. If you want to know more about it, PM me and I will do my best to answer your questions. The reason the characters are talking differently is because it's 1863. Like always, enjoy.**

**Rated T because it talks about war and stuff like that. It's not light hearted. It's a light T, but I am a little worried about it.**

**Christmas on the Front**

"_War is cruelty. There's no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over." – William T. Sherman_

Major Taylor galloped along his regiment's encampment, bellowing out orders to his men as General Hood's men advanced on them. He attempted to rally his men, but the roar of cannon balls soaring through the air silenced him.

"Stand your ground!" he bellowed to his frightened men, most of whom had never seen combat before. Mac's regiment was a mix of companies from around the country, most of them fresh boys just out of training.

Several sergeants echoed Mac's orders onto their platoons. The major sent three riders for aid from Sherman, hoping some sort of reinforcements would arrive before the Texans opened up on them.

"Take aim!"

The rebel yell hushed the sounds of men loading their weapons.

Mac took out his own revolver as the Texans approached. "Fire!"

Both sides exploded. The rebel cannon balls swept through Mac's regiment. His cannons fired on the advancing rebels, causing as much damage as their own cannon balls had done on the Yankees.

When both armies came too near each other for cannons to be effective, Mac ordered his men to fire at will before finally commanding them to fix bayonets.

As both sides met each other, the Union seemed to have the upper hand. Before anyone truly knew what happened, the Texans had retreated, and the Union troops were cheering. Mac knew too much about the Confederates to join in their celebration.

"Stand your ground!" He ordered again. "Reform the ranks!" His horse danced around in anticipation of another Southern charge. "Reload!"

His men were sluggish to respond. They believed that they had the victory. The Southerners had not returned.

All of the sudden, cannon balls crashed into the Union lines.

The men froze, waiting for their commander to issue orders. Several sergeants turned around to see that the major had been blown off his horse and lay motionless on the ground.

The sergeants hurriedly ushered orders to their men to fight, fight for their lives and for the major. It's a funny thing how one man can impact so many others. The men, knowing that their major lay either dead or wounded, worked themselves into a frenzy and charged the rebels.

The Texans, not knowing what to think of this, were slow on the update. They met the Yankees in the middle of the cold December field.

The Union soldiers brutally fought back successive rebel charges until the enemy retreated. Their celebration was the establishment of a field hospital where the injured flocked.

Gathered around the major, a lone surgeon stitched him up as he slipped back into consciousness.

Trying to sit up, Mac groaned. The surgeon stopped him. "Sir, you've several bruised ribs and a bullet wound. You must rest."

"I'm fine," Mac managed to muster out of his throat above the screams of other soldiers as surgeons amputated limbs. He grimaced at the pain of his men. "Do we have enough supplies?"

"Supplies?" The surgeon asked, surprised at the sudden change of topic. "We have plenty. We're running low on room. There are too many men for the space we have. With the Rebs we found, we don't have close to the room we need to treat them all."

The major sat up, finally able to gather enough strength to do so. "You will have your room." He seemed unfazed that they would treat the rebels before Union men if necessary. "Give my bed to someone who needs it, Doctor."

The surgeon attempted to help the major up, but the officer blatantly refused. Mac stumbled out of the field hospital toward his tent. The idea of collapsing on the ground entered his mind several times, but he fought it. He had to put his men above himself.

The surviving soldiers cheered as he entered the camp. They moved to the side when he walked by and saluted him. He did his best to salute back, but every step brought him more pain. Every step also brought him closer to his goal.

A captain stopped him before he reached his quarters. "Sir, where are you going?"

"We need more room at the hospital," he growled in return. "Bring me my horse."

"Sir, your horse is dead."

"Bring me _a_ horse, then," the major answered, growing increasingly annoyed with the captain.

"Sir, permission to speak freely?"

Mac sighed. "Permission granted."

"You are in no condition to mount a horse no less ride one," the officer observed gravely.

The major ignored his concerns. "I am the commanding officer of this regiment, yes? As such, it is my duty to help my men. In this case, I must find a suitable replacement for the field hospital."

"But, sir-" the officer started.

"Furthermore, if you continue to argue, I will have you court martialed and stripped of your rank. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," the officer responded. He took his leave to fetch a horse while the major tightened his sword and grabbed a pistol from his tent.

Mac mounted the horse as painlessly as he could when the captain brought it and set off at a brisk trot out of the camp. A mile or so from the Union camp stood a large house with a Confederate flag flying on the outside. Mac groaned as soon as he saw it. This was the closest home to the battlefield, and it was a Confederate home. Maybe the battle left him a little unclear as to where on the continent he was because he expected the home to be neutral at the very least.

Summoning up his courage, he slid off his horse and staggered up to the door.

A few seconds after knocking, the door opened and revealed a woman about Mac's height and age standing with her arms crossed. She glared at the Union officer. "May I _help _you?" She asked in the most impolite, hateful manner she could come up with.

"Yes, ma'am, you can," he answered timidly, trying not to incite her anger. "My name is Mac Taylor. I'm a Major in the Union Army. As you most likely heard earlier this morning, there was a battle."

"Yes, I did," she answered with another glare.

He nodded, taking off his cap. "I need to requisition your home to use as a field hospital. My men are injured and dying. We don't have enough room at the field hospital."

She hissed, "I don't help any Yankees."

She started to slam the door, but he stuck his foot out to stop it. "Yes, I understand your disposition, but my men are dying. It's Christmas Eve, and we don't have enough room to take in all the injured. We can't even help the Rebs- I mean, Confederate soldiers left on the battle field."

She shook her head. "No, I won't open my home to you."

He frowned. "Please. My men won't survive without being treated, and we have nowhere to move the men who have been treated. It's cold, and tomorrow is Christmas Day."

The air seemed to grow colder as she considered what he said.

"If I do allow you into my home, you must promise me something."

"Anything, ma'am."

She smiled. "When Sherman comes here, you will not let him burn this house to the ground. You must promise to protect it."

Mac breathed deeply before replying. "I promise on my honor that I will do everything in my power to stop General Sherman from destroying your home."

She nodded. "You may bring your men."

He finally smiled. "Thank you very much, ma'am."

She watched him stagger back to his horse and trot away. She thought that it must have taken him a great deal of strength to come and ask her for her home instead of just taking it like any other Union commander would have done. For that, she was thankful.

He came back several hours later with a procession of wounded on stretchers. Many of the wounded were missing arms or legs. Some were missing both legs. Most were moaning in their semiconscious states.

Mac led the way into the open home. The stretcher-bearers marched in behind him, only staying to drop off their patients.

He motioned the woman to follow him into a quiet room. "Ma'am, I don't want to discourage you as you have already been so kind as to open your home up to my wounded, but these are the soldiers who probably won't make it."

She looked rather dismayed. "Why bring them here?"

"The doctors aren't sure. They were stable enough to move, but the doctors don't know if they will make it or not," the major answered. He then looked abashed. "Ma'am, you have opened your home to me, and it has occurred to me that I don't even know your name."

"It's Miss not Ma'am," she corrected. "I'm Jo Danville."

"Thank you, Miss Danville," he smiled for a moment. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Yes, I'm sure," Jo answered as she thought of something that rather frightened her that she hadn't asked the kind major before. "Would you have taken my home had I refused to cooperate?"

Mac paused. "As a Union officer, I could not do that. It is against the Constitution to quarter soldiers in civilians' homes. Since you are not a part of the Union, I would and could have done so for my men. They gave their lives for me. It's the least I could do for them."

He took his leave and left her to think about all that he had said to her.

Jo couldn't shake what he said over the next few days. It haunted her to think that she had almost trusted this man who would go against the oaths he took because they weren't convenient.

Over the next few days, she couldn't shake Mac either. Every time she went to check on the men and help the doctors, he was there, watching her. She thought that he probably thought she would poison the men because they were Union soldiers. She despised that he would think so low of her.

Finally, his appearance got to be too much.

"Mister Taylor," she started, turning red. "I won't kill your men. You are mistaken to think that all Southerners are out to kill you and your men."

"It's just that you were wearing grey," Mac stared her down. "In my experience, those wearing grey want to kill my men."

Jo thought for a moment that he might have been joking, but since he was talking about the war, she thought better of it.

"I ought to thank you again," he said quietly. "Most people, let alone women, would have done what you did. I am in debt to you."

"If you weren't from the North, I might collect," Jo joked.

His lips quivered into a smile. "Maybe when the war is over things will be different."

"I certainly hope so."

**A/N: What did you think? I hope you liked it. Please review. And Merry Christmas! Hope your day was spectacular! XD**


	2. The Honorable Mac Taylor

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: NY.**

**Notes: I didn't think I would continue the story, but I kinda like the idea of Mac and Jo dealing with the Civil War as they would have come from different sides. I don't really like writing historical figures in fanfiction, but I will do my best. If I'm wrong about any facts, please tell me so I can correct them :D Like always, enjoy.**

**The Honorable Mac Taylor**

The major stood up in defiance to his general. "Sir, I mean no disrespect, but, General, this woman offered her home for us to use as a hospital."

The general stared Mac down. "Major, this woman is a traitor to the Union. We must deal with traitors. Do you know what we are doing here?"

"To take the heart of the Confederacy, sir," Mac mechanically responded.

"Correct, and while Grant takes Richmond, we will burn our way through to Savannah."

"Sir, I understand the plan, but if you do not mind me asking, I do not understand why we are doing this."

"If you were to find that your lands were being burned, would you not want to abandon your post? Would you not be terrified for your loved ones?"

The major shifted his position to look at the General. "I understand, sir, but I promised this woman that I would do all in my power to protect her home. I would feel dishonorable if I failed to uphold my promise."

The general looked at his major up and down before answering. "You have done what you can. If it bothers you so much, think about the Confederate officers who made oaths to uphold the Constitution and have now broken those oaths." He walked around the tent to examine a portrait. "We all have our orders. You _will_ follow them."

Sherman would have no more arguing from the major.

"Yes, sir," Mac answered. He took his leave from the general's tent and headed across the camp to his own. Ever since General Sherman and his army arrived, Mac knew that the chances of keeping his promises to Miss Danville had grown increasingly slimmer.

Saddling his new horse, Mac thought about how to tell Jo the terrible news. He thought that he would do better to avoid the subject until she was prepared to hear him.

The ride over to her home was brisk seeing that he had beaten a trail over there from camp from riding back and forth several times a day for a week.

Mac ambled slowly up the door, dreading breaking his promise. He had promised on his honor, and this let him with none. He already despised himself for going back on his word. But as an officer in the Union Army, he had no choice but to follow orders or be court martialed.

Jo opened her door as soon as he walked up. "Mister Taylor, I was expecting you."

His heart sank. Could she know already? He thought he was doing a great job of convincing her that the Union had the higher moral cause in the war. He knew he was about to shatter that with only a few words. "You were?" He attempted to keep a cool composure.

"The last of your men died this morning," she told him grimly. "I thought you came to collect his effects."

Mac was taken aback. He didn't know what to say to her so he stammered, "Uh- yes, yes, of course. That is the reason I came." He didn't bother to tell her that a major would not do something of that sort.

"Would you like some food before you collect his effects?" Jo offered.

He followed her inside. "Yes, I suppose I would." He had already lied to her about the reason he came so he figured he could lie a bit longer to her.

She set the table herself, making sure that everything was perfect. "I'm sure you've never had a proper Southern meal."

"You are right. I haven't." He straightened his uniform before sitting down at the table. The table setting was quaint. He had never sat down in a Southern home and eaten a meal that wasn't government issued in years.

The meal was crude. A bowl of hot stew sat in front of him. Before taking a spoonful, he regretted agreeing to a meal. He shouldn't eat something that none of his men had. As soon as he thought that, he dropped his spoon.

"What is it, Mister Taylor?" Jo asked rather surprised. "Usually people try the food in my home before doing that." Her words did nothing to lighten the atmosphere. His expression remained just as serious as it did when he put down his spoon.

"I've made a mistake in accepting a meal from you."

She stood up, frustrated with him. "I am not trying to kill you or your men."

He shook his head. "I do not believe you are. It just isn't right for me to accept this when my men are eating worse." He stood up and pushed his chair in. "Thank you for offering this to me, but I think it would be best if I were to collect the soldier's effects and leave."

Jo nodded. "Follow me." She led him slowly up the stairs and along a corridor lined with portraits of men in the Danville family. Most were officers in the army before the South seceded from the Union.

"I knew a Danville at West Point. Is he related to you?"

"My older brother, Samuel, went to West Point."

Mac nodded. "He was in my year. I am sorry to hear that he chose to serve in the Confederacy." He stopped to look at the picture of Samuel Danville. He looked about twenty-two in the picture or so Mac assumed because he was wearing an officer's uniform.

She ignored his comment and continued walking to the end of the hallway where she entered the room and closed the door behind her.

Mac didn't see her leave so when he turned around she was gone. He didn't know where she went so he went room by room looking for her. The rooms were normal. There was nothing out of place in any of them. In fact, someone had cleaned them. It was as if there hadn't been dozens of bloody men in them. The beds were made, the floor was clean, and the rooms were completely devoid of life. He wasn't even sure that Jo was in any of the rooms.

It was quite a shock to him when he found thirty or so pairs of boots in a room. The boots were issued to Union soldiers. The moment he saw them he knew that Jo had stolen them from the dead soldiers. He had heard rumors that the Confederate soldiers were running low on boots. It appalled him that she would take them from dead soldiers.

"Mister Taylor?" Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He closed the door quietly behind him and found the room she was in.

"Sorry, I got lost," he grunted.

She took his excuse as valid and showed him the effects left behind by the dead private.

Mac picked up the deck of cards and empty ammunition case slowly. "Why is this empty?" He asked suspiciously.

Jo looked shocked. "I suppose the soldier used it all in the battle."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Mac answered dully. He pocketed the cards and left the empty case on a table. "I think I should go."

Without another word, he walked down the stairs and out the door as quickly as he could. She followed him, thoroughly confused with the way he was acting.

"Mister Taylor, what is goin' on?" She asked, her Southern drawl coming on strong.

He turned around quickly. "I thought I'd feel more guilty about this, Miss Danville, but in light of recent events, I find that I do not."

Jo looked absolutely confused. "What are you talkin' about?"

"You have two hours to gather what you will and take it with you. After that, your house is property of the Union Army," he informed her without making eye contact.

She glared at him as he mounted the horse. "You lied to me! You promised to protect this house! I guess I shouldn't have expect that much from a damn Yankee."

He looked down at her. "I did do everything I could to protect this house. Some things are more complex than promises. This country means more to me than a promise, and you are a traitor to the country."

"You coward!" She yelled other slurs after him, but he couldn't hear her.

He did feel guilty, but he had a duty to do. Being called a coward didn't help his already guilty conscience. He figured that if he refused, he would be court martialed and most likely dishonorably discharged if Sherman had his way. Mac figured he could do more good by staying in the army than he could if he was discharged.

As much as he wanted to believe she was a good person, he felt personally betrayed and naïve. He also knew that someone had to watch her during her two-hour packing interval to make sure she didn't make off with the shoes and the other Union supplies she had accumulated.

"Captain," he ordered to the captain who had gotten his horse. "Take some men and go over to the house we've used as a hospital. I want you to watch Miss Danville and make sure she doesn't leave. I will be there in two hours."

The officer, knowing exactly what Mac meant by the two-hour time limit, grinned. "Yes, sir."

Mac slipped down off his horse and halted the captain. "Don't touch her, Captain, or her house."

The captain nodded and walked off to find some men to accompany him to the makeshift field hospital.

Some sergeant came up to deal with the major's horse. Mac wasn't really thinking at the moment as he wandered aimlessly about the camp. It had grown considerably since the skirmish between his troops and the Texans just a week ago.

With Sherman's arrival, the small camp under Major Taylor had been transformed into a virtual city. Thousands of tents formed a sea in the major's horizon. He stepped in between hundreds of tents and fires before seeing a familiar face.

"Sergeant Flack," the major greeted. "I believe this belonged to one of your men." He pulled out the deck of cards that Jo had given to him.

The young sergeant took the cards and grinned. "These are mine! Monty borrowed 'em 'fore he died."

"Why'd he do that?" Mac asked his sergeant.

"'Cause I'd go to Hell if I died with 'em," Flack answered. "He said he was already goin' to Hell and didn't wanna be bored when he got there." He started to shuffle the cards. "A game, Major? To Monty's memory?"

Mac nodded. "I suppose one game wouldn't hurt."

The sergeant grinned. "Hey, Messer, why don't ya come over and play a game with us?"

A young sergeant, only a few years Flack's senior, came over to sit down by the others.

The major returned the newcomer's salute before turning back to the game.

"May I join your game?" The general himself joined the group. The three subordinates stood up immediately and saluted. The general returned the salute and sat down.

Flack shuffled his cards. "To Monty." The three around him nodded.

"Sir," the major started, "I reported to Miss Danville what you wanted."

"Miss Danville?" Messer snickered.

Mac looked rather annoyed as he answered curtly, "Yes, Sergeant, even the Rebs have names."

"Sir, I think he was talkin' about your insistence to use her name," Flack pointed out.

"Yes, I am quite aware of that," the major answered. "I also know what he's insinuating, and I do not like it."

"I'm sure that you wouldn't be the first officer to take advantage of his position with a woman."

The major looked disgusted. "I hope you aren't suggesting what I think you are, Sergeant."

"'Course not, sir, but it has been known to happen."

The general, who had been silent up to this point, laid down his cards. "I believe I have a straight. That's good, right?" He joked with the men.

They all groaned as he cleaned up whatever pot they had come up with – a gold button, some chocolate, and an empty ammunition case. The general put the button and chocolate in the case.

"Major, why would you carry an empty ammunition box?" Sherman asked.

The major put down his cards and turned to the general. "I just came from Miss Danville's home. She gave it to me."

The sergeants snickered.

"I often keep gifts from the girls I _meet_," Messer said. "I've got girls lined up at every city."

"We've only been to one city since we left New York," Flack laughed. "Nice try though."

Mac knew they were joking, but he refused to encourage them. "I'm not interested in thieves, boys."

"A Reb a thief, sir?" Flack's inclusion of the term 'sir' did not make his statement any less sarcastic.

"General, I do believe she's stealing from the Union," Mac replied factually. "I found about thirty pairs of boots in her home. The Confederacy is short on boots and ammunition hence the empty ammunition case." Before the general could say anything, Mac continued. "General, I plan to search her house and her belongings for the missing supplies. Sir, she stole from dead Union soldiers."

"Where is she now?"

Mac searched his pockets for his watch before replying. "I have a Captain and some of his men watching her now. When it's time, I'll go over and have her and everything she has searched."

He continued to talk about his plan and ask the general for permission to enact the strategy. Before long, he checked his watch.

"It's time."

**A/N: So what do you think? I hope you'll review. It will have another part. That might be the last. I'm not sure. I really like Civil War history, but I'm not sure if I will continue or not. Hope you had a fantastic day! :D**


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